


Love is Our Resistance

by LadyLoki710



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Compound, Awkward Flirting, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Cousins, Dancing, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Hydra (Marvel), Kissing, Musicals, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Steve Rogers, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-07-29 11:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoki710/pseuds/LadyLoki710
Summary: Your friendship with Bucky develops into something more when you go into hiding with him while The Avengers battle a Hydra cell that is working to reestablish the Winter Soldier initiative. The story of your relationship will be told through a series of scenes that will begin in chronological order but will likely start to jump around the timeline at a later point.Set in a magical happy place after Infinity War where everyone is alive, getting along, and continuing to work together to make the world a better place.This was loosely inspired by Muse's song "Resistance" (if the title didn't make that obvious enough).





	1. Unu

A word of unsolicited career advice: Never work for a family member. Especially not the one who has been antagonizing you for literally your entire life. 

My jackass cousin Tony Stark is normally content to let me handle the Avengers’ PR team fairly independently so he’s free to tinker in his lab and work on making the world a safer place. So when he summons me to his office at the compound, I know I’m not going to be thrilled with what he has to say. 

As usual, Tony cuts right to the chase. “Got a mission for you, Madame Press Secretary.”

I’ve been slumping in my chair like a pouty teenager, but this makes me sit up straight. “Have you been awake for three days in a row again? Because you seem to have forgotten that I’m not an Avenger.”

“Just hear me out, okay? Cap was supposed to be here but I’m sure he’ll be along any minute. As you’re aware, we’ve been planning to take down a Hydra cell operating in Siberia. The latest intelligence Natasha has gathered indicates that they’re trying to rebuild the Winter Soldier program and they’re aware that Barnes has been working with us. Now, we’re pretty confident that after all of Shuri’s work, he’s no more susceptible to being reactivated by Hydra than you or I; the bastards would have to restart the whole process. However, as a precaution, we’re going to send Barnes underground for a while until we sort this out.”

Before I can ask how I’m to be involved in all this, Steve Rogers bursts through the door. “Sorry I’m late. Got stuck on a phone call.” He takes the seat next to me in front of Tony’s desk, giving me one of his disgustingly perfect smiles. If he weren’t one of my closest friends, sometimes I’d like to give him a good smack for being so impossibly handsome and pure. “So, will you help us out?”

“Tony just filled me in on why Buck needs to go back into hiding. We haven’t quite gotten to my role.”

“It’s pretty simple,” Steve replies. “It’s an all hands on deck situation with this Hydra mission so we were hoping you’d go along with Bucky as his partner, so to speak. You’ll pose as a couple. That tends to raise less suspicion. You two are good friends and you’ve always been a calming influence on him. I know my best friend would be in good hands with you.”

_What?_ “Um… you do realize my work here mainly involves writing press releases and social media updates? And that my only training has been self-defense classes? Why can’t you go with him?” I ask weakly. 

Tony rolls his eyes in dramatic fashion, answering for Steve. “One, because two super soldiers suddenly moving into an apartment together would give away the whole game, especially when one of them is Captain freaking America. Two, I’m pretty sure Barnes can handle himself if any trouble arises, and we’ll have a couple of undercover agents backing you up in your building as well. And three, my dear cousin, I can’t believe I’m trying to send you on an assignment to shack up with the guy you have the hots for and instead of thanking me, you’re trying to worm out of it! At the very least, I’m sure Sarge will eventually sleep with you out of sheer boredom.”

“ _Tony!_ ” Steve and I chorus in unison. 

“Okay, being incredibly insulting is not the way to convince me, you asshole. And sleeping with a colleague would be unprofessional.” I make a point of maintaining eye contact with my cousin; if Steve is blushing as much as I suspect he is, it will be impossible not to get the giggles. 

Tony throws up his hands in disgust. “When has that ever stopped anyone around here? And that’s rich coming from the woman who kissed Loki at our last Halloween party. _Loki_ ,” he repeats for emphasis. 

“I was drunk, and Clint and Spiderboy dared me to,” I protest.

“Right, because being dared by a teenager and Legolas is a great reason to do something. And don’t tell me you were reluctant when afterward you were telling everyone it was the best kiss you’d ever had and the God of Reindeer ruined you for any other man.” 

Poor Steve is rubbing his eyes like an exhausted toddler. “As entertaining as your witty family bickering is, can we get back on track? I’d like to let Bucky know we have everything settled, put his mind at ease as much as possible.”

That shuts us both up pretty efficiently. “I’m not convinced I’m the right person for the job, but I love you and I love Bucky and I will do everything I can to live up to your trust in me,” I tell Steve with all the confidence I can muster.

Relief floods his vibrant blue eyes and Steve leans over to clasp me in his strong embrace. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but I will be eternally grateful to you for doing this for Buck. I’ll be checking in as often as I can; anything you need, you know how to reach me.”

I pat his back awkwardly. “Maybe we should see how it goes before you commit to eternity.”

“FRIDAY, would you ask Barnes to come to my office right away?” Tony asks. 

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

The three of us make small talk until the former Winter Soldier appears. “Hey, doll face, punk, Stark,” he greets us each in turn. “So, whaddaya say, are we in this together?” he asks me. 

“Looks like you are my new partner in crime,” I confirm, my possibly poor choice of words prompting Steve to give me a concerned look. 

Bucky absolutely beams at this and I am struck once again by how immensely his time in Wakanda changed him. Though I know he still suffers from nightmares and is tortured by the heavy burden of his past, his disposition is positively sunny most days and he’s an incorrigible flirt. Being able to trust that his own mind won’t betray him has allowed the pre-war James Buchanan Barnes to shine through and he is one of the most charming people I’ve ever encountered. 

“You seem awfully chipper for someone who’s on the run from Hydra,” Tony observes. 

“This time I get to hide out with a beautiful gal and I no longer have to worry about any trigger words controlling my brain. What’s not to like?” Bucky laughs, a gleam in his stunning blue-gray eyes, and I know then that sharing an apartment with this ridiculously attractive man for an indefinite amount of time is going to be trouble. “Besides, you can use the time to teach me some things.”

_“Teach you some things?”_ Steve sputters, apparently thinking this is some sort of proposition. I’m not entirely sure what that was supposed to mean myself. 

“Yeah, like the music you listen to, and TV shows! So I can feel like less of a grandpa.”

“Ohhh,” I say, not quite certain whether this comes as a relief or not. “Pop culture, you mean. That sounds like fun. So, where are we going?”

“San Francisco. It was on the list of possibilities the team came up with and I remembered you saying it’s your favorite city, so I went with that.” Bucky is clearly very pleased with himself and I’m touched that he remembered such a trivial fact about me. 

“Oh, wow…” is all I can manage to say. Very smooth. 

“Consider it a little reward for taking one for the team,” Tony says. “If you’re compromised and we have to relocate you, you won’t get a choice in the matter, so you might want to keep a low profile, behave yourself, and remember this is not a vacation.”

“Serious business. Got it.” I swivel in my chair and offer my hand to Bucky. “Ready for this, partner? Or what should I be calling you… honey? Boyfriend?”

“I’m ready, baby doll.” Bucky takes my hand but presses a kiss to my skin instead of shaking it, sending a rush of warmth straight to my abdomen. 

Oh Lord, I am not ready for this _at all._


	2. Doi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky bond over music.

“Would you quit peeking through the blinds every five minutes? You may as well just go outside and announce that you’re harboring a fugitive.”

“You’re not a fugitive,” I remind Bucky, reluctantly stepping away from the window.

“This time,” he says flatly, his gaze never leaving the baseball game he’s watching on TV.

“I’m sorry. I’m just bored, and when I’m bored I start feeling anxious like someone’s watching every move we make.” I cross the living room and go into the kitchen to get a sparkling water from the fridge. Tony may be a pain in the ass, but he’s made sure the apartment is well-stocked with food, drinks, books, video games, and anything else we could possibly need or want.

“We’d know if someone was watching us, sweetheart. Stevie has this place under surveillance and the agents sweep the area every day.” Bucky brightens as my phone begins ringing beside him on the couch. “Hey! Contact with the outside world!”

He answers the phone as if it were his own, ignoring my protests. “Cousin Tony! Yeah, everything is just swell here. What’s going on with you?”

I jog across the room and attempt to lunge at the super soldier to intercept the phone call, but only succeed in banging my knee on the coffee table and falling to the floor, where I sprawl groaning in pain.

“Yes, she’s here, she… is indisposed at the moment but sends her love,” Bucky is saying.

“I hate you so much.” I reach for the phone again and this time he has mercy on me and places it in my outstretched hand. “Hi, cous.”

“I’m taking bets on how long it will take for you and Saving Private Ryan to hook up,” Tony announces without preamble. “I was wondering if I could get some inside information. What’s been happening there?”

“You do realize it’s barely been a week, and I refuse to lower myself to your level,” I say haughtily, though I would probably be placing a bet if our positions were reversed. “Let’s see. Bucky works out and watches TV and plays cards with the agents down the hall. I signed up for a library card, watched some hockey, read a lot…”

“You’re hopeless,” Tony replies in disgust. Someone asks a muffled question in the background, and he snaps, “I told you, kid, you’re too young to gamble and we’re betting on a, ah, mature situation anyway. Get back to work in the lab.”

I’m rolling my eyes when Natasha’s voice pipes up. “Must you guys act like a bunch of immature frat boys?” My relief at having at least one of the Avengers on my side is short-lived, however. Nat adds, “Put me in for two and a half weeks.”

“Is there anyone there who’s not gambling on my sex life?” I ask plaintively. Bucky raises his eyebrows at this but refrains from commenting.

“Wanda wasn’t, but then Vision became intrigued by the math involved in gambling and calculated what he claims is the best bet, so she finally gave in. I think Capsicle is the only holdout.”

“Wonderful. Thank goodness for the ever-Puritan Steve Rogers,” I say dryly. I finally manage to wrap up the conversation after Tony fills me in on the latest in the Hydra investigation and I reassure him several times that there’s absolutely nothing to report from my end.

Bucky had been rummaging in the freezer while I talked; now he walks out with a bag of frozen vegetables and offers a hand to help me up off the floor. He settles me on the couch with the bag on my knee, which is already bruising and flops beside me with his feet up on the coffee table. I thank him for his thoughtfulness but he seems distracted, scowling at the TV screen. “Did you know that the Dodgers play in Los Angeles now?”

“Um, I think that happened before I was born.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I regret them, wondering if I’ve thoughtlessly reminded Bucky of the decades of life that were stolen from him.

To my relief, he glances over at me with a smirk. “Was that supposed to be an old man joke?”

“No, just a statement of fact.”

“Hmm.” Bucky picks up the remote and mutes the TV. “Why don’t you play me some music? You’re supposed to be catching me up on everything.”

The prospect of sharing my music with a willing audience perks me up. I retrieve my laptop from my bedroom and open iTunes, putting it on shuffle so Bucky can hear a variety of songs. We pass a cozy, pleasant afternoon in this way, lounging on the couch while raindrops patter on the windows. Bucky has been exposed to some music at the compound, particularly Tony’s hard rock and the cheesy pop that Peter favors while training, but it’s fun to introduce him to new artists and genres. To my amusement, he seems to favor punk and alternative, although he complains that modern music doesn’t lend itself to dancing.

“It works fine for my version of dancing, which mostly involves bouncing and swaying,” I respond.

“What? I’ve seen you dancing at those stuffy galas Stark is always hosting.”

“Well, I can do a mean waltz, but only after Tony forced me to learn so I wouldn’t embarrass him at his events.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, bands still play ballads you can dance to.” I scroll through my music library and pause on Green Day, which Bucky had seemed to enjoy. “Like this.” I hit play on “21 Guns.”

Bucky takes in the intro and nods. “This works. May I have this dance, Miss Stark?” He holds out his flesh hand and I take it, acutely conscious of the blush creeping up my neck as he pulls me off the couch.

“I’d be honored, Sergeant Barnes.”

The super soldier puts an arm around my waist and hesitates slowly before offering his metal hand. “Sorry, it’s cold. And there’s no need for titles, doll.”

The metal hand is indeed cool, his grip on my hand surprisingly gentle. Our height difference is almost comical but I find I feel quite safe and content as he pulls me closer and we begin to move. “It’s perfectly fine… James,” I say, liking the feel of his proper name on my tongue. It appears he does too; the skin around his eyes crinkles adorably when he smiles and twirls me.

We move in contented silence until I see Bucky’s look grow distant as he listens to the song, and it strikes me that the lyrics might hit a little too close to home for him.

_When you're at the end of the road_   
_And you lost all sense of control_   
_And your thoughts have taken their toll_   
_When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul_   
_Your faith walks on broken glass_   
_And the hangover doesn't pass_   
_Nothing's ever built to last_   
_You're in ruins_

“Oh, god, this was probably a bad choice of song,” I say hastily. Are those tears in his eyes? What have I done? “I can turn it off.”

“Don’t,” he says, appearing to return to the present. “It helps to hear someone express what I feel, much better than I could. Steve’s always trying to get me to talk but sometimes the words just aren’t there, you know?”

“I do know. That’s part of why music has always been therapeutic for me. Next time we do this, I’ll play you some Beatles songs that will make you cry like a baby.”

Bucky presses a kiss to my forehead. “I look forward to it. Thank you for sharing your music with me and being so considerate. You’ve never been phased by the arm or any of my baggage and I’m just… really grateful to have you in my life.” He looks away, bashful as a shy little boy, and my heart breaks for him.

Tony and I had butted heads when Steve first proposed that Bucky should join the team. On one hand, my cousin’s reluctance was completely understandable given that his parents had been murdered by the Winter Soldier. On the other hand, I was enraged by Hydra’s enslavement of him and the other people in the program and I felt he deserved a chance to prove himself. Steve had been aware that I’d taken his side in the dispute, and now I wonder if Bucky had also known.

I’m not quite sure how to respond to his compliments, so I just rest my head on his shoulder and we continue our slow circle around the room, listening to Billie Joe Armstrong sing about laying down your arms and giving up the fight. I wish we could heed his advice, forget about Hydra, and remain in this moment forever.


	3. Trei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky team up to antagonize a surprise visitor.

“Y’know, when I said I’d take you out on the town, I thought you’d go for something a little fancier - dinner, dancing…” Bucky teases, playfully nudging me with his elbow.

“We’re supposed to be laying low, remember? Besides, this is exactly how I wanted to spend the afternoon.”

We’re seated at a small table at a coffee shop following a walk through Chinatown and a trip to the library. Bucky has been plagued by nightmares and flashbacks as of late and hasn’t been sleeping well, so I found a book on the Howling Commandos in hopes that it might be beneficial for him to be reminded of all the good he’d accomplished during the war. The book is spread open before us and we’ve been examining the photos while waiting for our coffees. It is utterly surreal to see pictures of two of my friends in a book about World War II. 

Bucky, always the gentleman, retrieves our drinks when the order comes out. He takes a sip of his black coffee, makes a disgusted face, and dumps in about six packets of sugar. “Hey, no rationing of sugar is a novelty to me,” he says in response to my raised eyebrows. I just smile and savor my white chocolate mocha, returning my attention to the book.

“Do you see that man in the corner, with the baseball cap and glasses?” Bucky suddenly whispers. 

Puzzled, I scan the shop until I locate the customer in question, who appears to be absorbed in whatever he’s doing on his phone. “Yes…?” 

“I swear that’s Stevie. The hat and glasses are his idea of a disguise.”

The man is sitting in a reading nook, partly in the shadow of a bookcase, and it’s hard to get a good look at him. He glances in our direction and I catch a brief glimpse of striking blue eyes before I avert my gaze. “It does look like Steve, but why would he be here spying on us? When he said he would be checking in I thought he meant he’d actually interact with us like a normal human being.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Since when was Steve a normal human being? Let’s make him blush.”

“What exactly are you proposing?”

His wicked grin is irresistible. “Kiss me.”

Even if I could possibly resist that smile, the mischief twinkling in his eyes would be my downfall. Tongue-tied, I nod; if this is going to be the only time I get to kiss Bucky, I’m damn well going to enjoy it. He gently places his flesh hand on the back of my neck to draw me closer and claims my lips, brushing against them lightly at first. I cut my eyes to Steve, who is sitting stiffly with decidedly flushed cheeks. I smile against Bucky’s mouth and he seems to take that as encouragement to deepen the kiss, teasingly grazing my lower lip with his teeth. I’m afraid I might swoon right then and there.

 _Okay, this has been enough kissing to thoroughly mess with Steve, right?_ The problem is that I’ve never been kissed quite like this and I certainly don’t have the willpower to be the one to break away first. So when Bucky’s tongue finds its way into my mouth to dance with mine, I offer no resistance. He tastes of coffee and a hint of mint chewing gum, and I am utterly lost until we are rudely interrupted.

“Alright, you two can knock it off now, you’re making people uncomfortable.” Steve is standing at our table with his arms crossed, looking every inch the parent who is ready to hose down two teenagers who are making out. 

Bucky takes his good old time disengaging his mouth from mine, pausing to murmur in my ear, “ _Scumpa mea_ ,” before turning his attention to Steve. I have no idea what that means, but I like the way it sounds and I make a mental note to ask for a translation later. In the meantime, I slump limply in my seat, wishing I had a cold drink with which to douse myself. 

“Hiya, Stevie! You mean it was making you uncomfortable?” Bucky turns the full force of his best puppy dog look on his friend. 

Steve is still not amused. “I’m going to assume that this is your idea of a prank and not proof that Tony was right.”

“Right about what?” Bucky asks, and I deliver a swift kick to Steve’s leg, fixing him with what I hope is my most menacing stare. 

“Nothing!” I squeak. “What brings you here, anyway?”

“I thought I would observe the two of you in the wild, so to speak. It’s reassuring to see that you’re blending in so well,” Steve says dryly, somehow managing to make me feel like I’m being scolded with one mild comment. 

“I’m sorry Steve, that was childish and it was all my idea,” Bucky says contritely, but he’s biting the inside of his cheek and I know he’s trying not to laugh. 

Steve sighs, glancing at his watch. “I have to fly back to New York tonight but I have a few hours until then. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“Chinese?” Bucky asks hopefully.

“Why not?”

As we walk out of the shop with Bucky hauling my tote bag overflowing with books, he asks with a cheeky grin, “Was that a satisfactory kiss? I’m a little out of practice.” 

Although Steve is walking ahead of us, I know for a fact that he’s rolling his eyes. “Sorry Sarge, a true lady never kisses and tells,” I say primly, linking my arm with his. 

There’s no way I’m going to admit that the best kiss I’ve ever had was merely a ploy to make Steve Rogers squirm. 

~*~*~*~

I am awakened late that night by a faint tapping on my door. It takes me a few minutes to reach a state of semi-consciousness; I’ve been deep in a blissful dream about one James Buchanan Barnes that was just about the make the leap from a PG-13 rating to R, so when I stumble over to the door and open it, it’s more than a little disconcerting to find him standing there. 

“Buck? What’s wrong?” Alarmed, I take in his glassy eyes and flushed skin. 

“Nightmare,” he mumbles. “M’sorry to bother you. Can I stay with you?”

“Of course you can. Come on, let’s get you into bed.” 

Bucky obeys and I tuck him in, wracking my brain for the tips Steve had given me to help our friend through a bad night. I tentatively climb into bed and spoon him from behind as best I can considering our size difference. “How can I help?” I ask softly, tucking a loose strand of hair back into his bun. 

“Just… talk to me. About anything.”

I babble on about how nice it was to catch up with Steve while stuffing ourselves with dim sum, the latest meme Peter had sent me that I didn’t understand in the slightest, and tell some stories about Tony pranking me at every opportunity during my childhood. Bucky’s shoulders start shaking as I reminisce and I’m terrified that I’m failing to soothe him at all. Then I realize that he’s suppressing laughter. 

“Excuse me, I’m telling you about some very traumatic treatment at the hands of my very own cousin,” I say, feigning offense. 

“Sorry doll, but the thought of little you being chased by Tony’s robot friends is just delightful.”

“Did I mention that the robots were his only friends? Because that's an important detail. Are you feeling any better?”

Bucky insists that he is, but I can still feel him trembling slightly. “Hmm. Do you want me to put on some music? Steve said that helps sometimes.”

“No, stay here with me. Sing me something.” 

I’ve never been much of a singer, but I rub his back and start singing the first comforting song that comes to mind, “Blackbird.” “Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…”

By the time I finish the song, Bucky’s breathing is slow and even; I stay quiet, hoping he’s fallen asleep, breathing in his musky masculine smell and stifling a yawn. I’m close to drifting off myself when I’m startled by his voice, which is gravelly and vulnerable. “Kissing you was nice. It felt right, y’know?”

“It did feel right, didn’t it,” I say softly. 

“Can I kiss you again sometime?”

“Yes, but let’s see how you feel about it when you haven’t just had a nightmare.” I’m afraid he’s not truly conscious of what he’s saying in his sleepy state, but I’m desperate to satisfy my curiosity. “James?” I whisper as if making too much noise might spook him and break the spell. “Can I ask what you said after you kissed me? I think it was in Romanian? Was that some sort of joke, or...”

“ _Scumpa mea_. It means ‘my precious.’” He rolls over to kiss me on the forehead.

For once in my life, I’m rendered completely speechless. Even if I never learn another word of Romanian, I know that phrase will stay with me for the rest of my life.


	4. Patru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Tony's pranks leads to a heart-to-heart talk.

I awaken to the enticing smell of bacon frying and the sound of Bucky shouting from somewhere down the hall. Concerned, I leap out of bed at a speed that’s probably a personal record and throw on the bathrobe that hangs from a hook on the back of my bedroom door. Hurrying through the hallway, I skid to a stop in the kitchen doorway, not quite prepared for the sight that greets me there. 

The former Hydra assassin is cooking something on the stove, clad in plaid pajama bottoms and a tight T-shirt, listening to the Broadway musical playlist I’d put together for him after learning of his love for show tunes. “My Shot” from Hamilton is playing. Bucky shakes his hips and bounces on the balls of his feet during the verse, then uses his spatula as a microphone as he enthusiastically belts out the chorus: “I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy, and hungry, and I AM NOT THROWING AWAY MY SHOT!”

Needless to say, I am transfixed. I watch Bucky’s performance in delight, reveling in seeing him so carefree and singing lyrics that could have been triggering (pun intended) given his former occupation. Once the song ends, I decide I’ve been creepy for long enough and grab a spoon from the counter to join him in a duet of “Sherry” from Jersey Boys, popping some English muffins into the toaster. Bucky seems mildly surprised to find me in the kitchen but quickly recovers, taking my hand to twirl me around. By the time we finish our set with a rousing rendition of “Two by Two” from The Book of Mormon, Bucky is sliding bacon and eggs onto plates, I’ve buttered the English muffins, and we’re sitting down to eat at the counter. 

“I take it you’re enjoying the playlist?” I tease. 

“I was a little skeptical about musicals about Alexander Hamilton and Mormons, but it’s good stuff!” Bucky takes a sip of coffee. 

“You chose your pop culture guru wisely. Steve would never share these kinds of treasures with you. He thought Hamilton was going to be wholesome and patriotic. You should’ve seen his face when he discovered it’s full of swear words and a sex scandal.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen that face enough times to imagine how it looked,” he smirks. 

I offer to clean up the kitchen and Bucky settles in with his laptop at the counter to keep me company while I work. He keeps chuckling at something on the screen as I load the dishwasher, sounding more and more amused until curiosity gets the best of me. “What’s so funny over there? Are you reading fanfiction about yourself again?”

“Uh…” He looks uncharacteristically sheepish. “Did you know there are stories about you and me on here?”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” I set down the mug I’m holding and walk behind Bucky to read over his shoulder. Sure enough, on the screen is a rather explicit (and not particularly well-written) fanfic about the two of us. I’ve never felt so mortified. “This is insane. The Avengers are famous, but how do these people even know I exist? And they’re writing about me doing things I’ve never even done in bed before!” Okay, why did I just blurt that out? 

“C’mon, sweetheart, look on the bright side. These writers always say I have ‘resting murder face’ and am in love with knives and I want to kill Sam every time he so much as looks at Steve. This says you’re sassy and irresistible and I can’t keep my hands off of you… whoa. And apparently, neither can Steve.”

“What?!” I scan the text as Bucky scrolls down the page. " _We have a threesome with Steve?! Oh my God._ "

Bucky is now hunched over, wheezing with laughter. I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor, but I’m having trouble finding anything to be amused about in this situation. “I’m glad someone finds this funny,” I say shortly, my face burning, and walk stiffly to my room. 

As soon as I close the door, I dial Natasha, who is the most likely of anyone I know to help me get quickly and discreetly to the bottom of this. To her credit, she listens silently to my story without laughing, but the assassin is skeptical about my suspicion that Tony is responsible for the offending fanfic. “Tony loves a good prank as much as anyone, but I can’t see him taking the time to actually write a story just to get under your skin,” she says doubtfully.

“I’m sure he had some poor intern write the stupid thing. I just want to know where it was posted from. Can you find that out for me, Nat? I’d be eternally grateful.”

Natasha agrees to do some sleuthing. I shouldn’t be surprised that it takes her only ten minutes to call me back, but somehow I’m still impressed. “You were correct,” she informs me, “the story was posted from Tony’s lab. No one wanted to admit to knowing about it but after I threatened to break a few bones, I learned that it was mostly a collaboration of Clint and Scott Lang. Apparently, Sam and Loki also contributed a few scenes.”

It’s great to know that half of the Avengers team, including the freaking God of Mischief, is writing fanfic about my sex life. I thank Nat for her detective work, trying not to cry out of frustration and humiliation. “Are you sure you don’t want me to kick a few asses for you?” she asks sympathetically. 

“I appreciate your support but that won’t be necessary.”

After we hang up, I throw myself onto my bed face-down. There is a tentative knock on the door which I ignore, hoping Bucky will leave me alone, but he knocks again. “Come in,” I say at length, irritated by his persistence even as I’m touched by his concern. 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky says quietly, straddling my desk chair and resting his forearms on the backrest. “You okay?”

I really am not prepared to meet his eyes but mumbling into the pillows would be useless, so I sit up and hug my knees, keeping my eyes downcast. “I’m fine, just extremely embarrassed. I talked to Nat and she discovered that Tony came up with the fanfiction idea. I just… I don’t know, he’s always liked to tease me about having a crush on you but this is taking it too far. The last thing you need right now is his very obvious hints that you should hook up with me.”

Of all the things Bucky could have latched onto from my statement, the last thing I would have expected to hear from him is, “Wait. You have a crush… on me?”

“Oh please, like you haven’t noticed, or picked up on Tony’s hints at the very least,” I scoff, not taking into account Bucky’s insecurity and disbelief that anyone would want him around after his exploits while brainwashed by Hydra. 

“You have a crush on me,” he repeats wonderingly. “Even after everything I’ve done, all the people I’ve killed? Including your aunt and uncle.”

“Look,” I sigh, “Tony and I had a lot of fights about whether to trust you after we found out what really happened to his parents. I can’t tell you it’s not painful. But at the same time, I can’t hold you responsible for what Hydra forced you to do. That wasn’t James Buchanan Barnes; it was their creation, the Winter Soldier. I know how warm and loyal and resilient you are, and I’ve admired that about you since we met. Yes, I have a crush on you, but I don’t want it to change things between us and I hope we can continue to be good friends.”

Finally, I am able to look up at Bucky, and I am encouraged by his smile and the affection in his eyes. “Of course we can. I don’t think you understand that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I left Wakanda. A few months ago, I wasn’t even able to touch another person and I was terrified of hurting someone when I was having a nightmare or flashback. Just being able to fall asleep in your arms, and cuddle while we watch movies, is monumental, y’know? And even if we never date or ‘hook up’ or whatever you want to call it, I’m grateful that you’re a part of my life and that you’re here with me. So don’t worry about dumb shit Tony pulls, okay?”

All I can do is beam at him, completely overcome; tears well up in my eyes but this time they’re happy. “Okay,” I confirm. 

Bucky stands and walks over to kneel beside me on the bed, tenderly taking my face in his hands. “Good. That being said, it seems silly to keep wasting time. May I take you out on a date?” 

“I would love that,” I say, drowning in those beautiful blue eyes of his. Bucky leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and inviting, and whispers my name almost reverently before resting his forehead against mine. 

I will never admit it to him, but I am suddenly absurdly grateful to Tony for leading me to this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make use of my headcanon that Bucky loves musicals and reads fanfiction about himself. I probably need help but this was so much fun to write!


	5. Cinci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go out on your first date with Bucky.

“Wow. You look stunning, doll,” Bucky says when I finally emerge from my bedroom for our date, a soft smile on his lips. 

I can’t resist twirling around so that my full skirt flares gracefully. I’m not entirely sure how many memories Bucky has regained from World War II but Steve had suggested wearing a 1940s-style dress, and Steve always knows best when it comes to Bucky. I had chosen an adorable dress with matching shoes and a small clutch, and allowed Tony to foot the bill, knowing that was his way of apologizing for the fanfiction incident. Spending a ridiculous amount of time getting ready while Bucky waited patiently down the hall is one of the many strange aspects of dating someone with whom you live. All that primping is worth it once I see the look on Bucky’s face.

Tony had also arranged for a driver to transport us around the city as anonymously as possible. Bucky had urged me to choose any restaurant I wanted for dinner, no matter the price. However, I wanted to keep things low-key, knowing he was already a nervous wreck about his first date in about 80 years, so I’d picked a cozy little diner in Ghirardelli Square, with the added benefit of throngs of tourists to help camouflage us. 

We’re both quiet on the drive to the restaurant, lost in our own thoughts as we watch the city go by. I realize I’m tapping my foot nervously and will myself to stop. Bucky reaches over and gently places his flesh hand over mine. “Hey, don’t tell me you’re nervous about going out with a semi-stable hundred-year-old man,” he jokes. 

“It’s hard not to be when the hundred-year-old man happens to be the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen, with the matching great personality,” I counter. 

He suddenly appears to be avidly interested in something out the window but I glimpse a shy smile before he turns his head. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he quips. 

Once we’re seated in a booth with a lovely view of the bay and have ordered our food, our customary effortless chatter seems to dissolve in the face of this new situation. I begin to despair over our stilted conversation, wondering if we should have just accepted our uncomplicated friendship and not pushed for anything more. 

Then Bucky mentions the goats he’d tended in Wakanda in passing and I find myself babbling like a complete idiot. “Goats? You never told me you had goats! I love goats! Were there baby goats? Did you name them? Did they jump on you and headbutt you?” I have to make a concerted effort not to emit an earsplitting, high-pitched squeal that breaks all the nearby glass, much like Agnes in the Despicable Me movies. 

Bucky raises his eyebrows, amused. “I never mentioned them? They were a part of my therapy in a way, and also something to keep me busy. Shuri had read a book on therapy animals and I became her lab rat, so to speak. It sounds ridiculous but I miss the goats sometimes. They were so social, it was a little like having a herd of dogs.” 

I am utterly enamored by the idea of the former Winter Soldier tending goats, and I tell him so. “Shuri has invited me back to visit her and to check on my progress,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “I’m sure she’ll agree that it’s a good idea to bring you along. You know, for emotional support,” he winks. 

“Are you serious? I’d love to see Wakanda but I know they’re still a bit wary of outsiders visiting.” 

“Absolutely. Shuri is a lot more... progressive than her brother.” 

I can’t help but snort at that. I’ve briefly met Shuri on a couple of occasions when she and King T’Challa visited the U.S. for diplomatic functions or Avengers business, and we hit it off famously, especially after she did an impression of Tony that had me in stitches. 

The floodgates burst open and soon we’re so deep in conversation that I have to remind myself to eat my dinner once it arrives. Bucky talks about his life in Wakanda, including his work with Shuri to remove Hydra’s trigger words and restore his control over his own mind. This is the first time he’s opened up to me about his time in the African nation; I am entranced. 

We order dessert our small way of rebelling against Steve, who is always trying to convince us to eat healthier. “I’m sorry, I’m talking your ear off. I must be the most boring date of all time,” Bucky says sheepishly as we dig into enormous slices of pie. 

“Are you kidding? I love listening to you talk,” I say, cringing inside at how incredibly cheesy that sounds. 

“You're very easy to talk to. If it weren’t for you and Stevie, well… I don’t know what state my brain would be in, but it wouldn’t be pretty.”

I find it difficult to meet Bucky’s eyes after that, yet I’m grinning ear-to-ear. Our next destination is a speakeasy-themed bar that features Prohibition-era cocktails and dancing. It had been the closest thing we’d been able to find to a dance hall from the 1940s, at least outside of a WWII reenactment. When we arrive, I’m relieved to see the patrons wearing a variety of vintage outfits, from flapper dresses to ‘50s pin-up styles; my look fits right in.

Bucky goes to order drinks at the bar while I scout out a table. I take off my jacket, settle in, and check my phone, finding messages from both Tony and Clint, asking how the date is going. I leave them in suspense, for the time being, resisting my impulse to send them something cryptic in reply, like a winking emoji. Tony will just interpret it as something dirty and who knows what Clint would think. 

I set down my phone just in time to see a very attractive redhead approach Bucky at the bar. I am several feet away and can only hear half of what she’s saying but I’m fairly sure she is asking him to dance. Watching this scene play out from a distance, I am suddenly acutely aware that Bucky could date anyone he wanted to and the fact that he’s here with me is nothing short of miraculous. He’s probably just humoring me after learning about my stupid schoolgirl crush. 

And then Bucky gives the woman one of his charming smiles and says, “I’m flattered but I’m on my first date in a few decades it’s very important to me that it goes well.”

The woman smiles warmly, briefly placing her hand on his arm. “Your date is very lucky,” she says before disappearing into the crowd. 

Okay, clearly I need to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt. I manage to steady my nerves somewhat by the time he returns with drinks. “You said you liked drinks with citrus, so give this Sidecar a try. If you don’t like it, we’ll get you something else.”

I take a tentative sip of the tangy, refreshing drink with sugar on the rim and find it wonderful. I also taste Bucky’s Sazerac, although I giggle when he says it might be too strong if I’m not used to drinking whiskey. “Don’t worry, I was a pro at drinking shots of whiskey in college.”

I nearly choke on the drink at the way Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “I would not have guessed that. You must have been a handful in college.”

“Oh, I was. You’re lucky that you met me after I settled down,” I tease. 

“Oh? Are you saying I can’t handle you?” His gaze is positively smoldering; I am suddenly aware of his cool metal hand on my knee, a rather pleasant sensation as I’m feeling overheated and painfully aware of the flush creeping up my neck. 

“I don’t know. Can you, Sergeant Barnes?” I flirt, and he leans in and captures my lips with his own in a much more heated kiss than the sweet one we’d shared at our apartment. I feel a hint of his tongue caressing mine before he pulls away, leaving me breathless and flustered. 

“Well, shall we dance?” Bucky asks. “I assume that’s why you wanted to come here.”

I admit, “I can’t dance to save my life. I chose this because Steve said you used to like to dance.” I down half of my drink, hoping it will help give me the courage to attempt to dance in public.

“I can’t promise that I’ll remember all the steps but muscle memory hasn’t let me down so far. C’mon, doll, let’s give it a whirl.” Bucky extends a hand to help me up and we join the crowd on the dance floor for the next number. 

To both our surprise, he doesn’t miss a step and even manages to make me look like I know what I’m doing. I am in a state of absolute bliss as Bucky’s strong arms guide me through the dances. We had intended to play it safe and return home early but one song melts into another and I am having too much fun to care. We finally drag ourselves out of the club after 1 a.m. I’m feeling a bit dazed from the alcohol and physical exertion but the cool air revives me once we emerge onto the hushed city streets. The infamous San Francisco fog seems to have a dampening effect, much like snow. 

I move to step out from the doorway and onto the sidewalk to watch for our car but Bucky grasps my arm and stops me, putting a finger to his lips. He cocks his head as if listening for something, then hisses, “Get down.”

Bewildered, I freeze as Bucky’s entire body tenses. “What…?”

_”I said get down!”_ Without further ado, he shoves me behind him. I stumble and land hard on my backside just as something buzzes past my ear and hits the ground. I look to the side and see some sort of dart with a sharp, needle-like tip, realizing with dawning horror that someone is trying to sedate Bucky and there’s a good chance they’re affiliated with Hydra. 

Shouting at me to take cover, Bucky takes off running across the street to where I can barely make out a man in dark clothing perched on a low retaining wall. Dragging myself backward into the doorway with shaking hands, I fumble blindly for my clutch. I start sobbing as I pull out my phone to call for help. I’ve just managed to unlock the phone when a shadow falls over me. “No distress calls,” says the armed man looming over me, in an Eastern European accent. He swings his rifle and the butt slams into my forehead before I can react, blinding me with pain and black spots that swim in my vision. 

A car screeches to a halt in the street and the two security agents who’ve been assigned to us leap out and run to Bucky’s defense, guns already raised. Once I see that Bucky has some backup, I give in and let the darkness consume me, falling into an abyss where there is no pain.


	6. Sase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You deal with the aftermath of the attack on you and Bucky.

I awaken in a panic, aware only that Bucky is in danger and I can do very little to help him. Gasping, I attempt to sit up but am overwhelmed by a wave of intense, throbbing pain in my head that’s so severe, I’m afraid I will be sick. Squinting in what seems to be blinding light, I attempt to shout but my mouth is so dry that I can only manage to croak, “Bucky?”

Suddenly Tony and Steve are hovering over me, hushing me and urging me to be still and calm down. For some reason, this just upsets me further and I find myself bursting into tears for no apparent reason. “Hey, everything is okay now. Bucky can take care of himself and he’s fine. You are not fine and have a concussion so you need to settle down, all right?” Steve says. I nod obediently, setting off another explosion of pain in my head. 

“Where am I? Where’s Bucky?” I ask as Steve fusses with the sheet that covers me, always the mother hen of the Avengers. 

“You’re in the hospital, still in San Francisco. Once you’re cleared to travel we’ll take you back to the compound and our team’s doctors will take over your care. Buck’s already back there, being guarded around the clock and none too happy about it.” 

Steve’s deep voice and calm manner soothe me; Tony, on the other hand, looks worse than he used to after a weekend of non-stop partying. His eyes are red, his hair a mess, and I suspect he’s actually been crying. “I am the worst cousin ever,” he announces, gingerly wrapping his arms around me, as if afraid he might break me. “I knew sending you out here with a former assassin was a terrible idea. What was I thinking? Your parents are going to kill me and I don’t even blame them. I’m sorry for putting you in danger…”

“Tony, stop it. I voluntarily joined this mission. You’re acting like I was forced into it.” I place a hand on his head as if giving a benediction before asking, “Can I have some water?”

“What? Oh, of course. I’m babbling away and you just regained consciousness. We should get your doctor in here.” Tony presses a button on the control pad at my bedside to summon a nurse before pouring me a glass of water from a small pitcher and helping me to sip some. I feel parched but am somewhat afraid to drink more when nausea is roiling in my stomach. 

“How did I end up with a concussion anyway?” I ask. My question makes furrows of concern appear on Steve’s brow. “I remember some men going after Bucky but not what I did.”

Tony and Steve exchange a look that does nothing to make me feel less uneasy. “You might not remember everything about the incident for a while,” Tony explains. “One of the Hydra minions apparently smacked you in the head with the butt of a gun when you tried to call 911. You also have a bruised tailbone from falling onto the concrete. Barnes said he pushed you behind him a little too hard.” 

I have a shadowy memory of falling on my backside but none at all of being hit, which I suppose is a blessing. Still, there is something incredibly disturbing about not being able to remember such a major event. “Are you sure Bucky’s not hurt? Can I talk to him?”

“Just a few bruises and scratches,” Steve assures me, “nothing to worry about. We’ll set up a video chat as soon as you receive the go-ahead. Right now you’re supposed to rest and enjoy some peace and quiet, which means no screen time.” 

No screen time? What am I supposed to do while I recover? More importantly, I am longing to speak to Bucky and see how he’s holding up after the attack. 

Tony must have seen the distress on my face, because he says, “I know, I know, you’re worried about The Bionic Man and you’re going to be bored out of your skull, no pun intended. I brought some books for you but the best thing you can do for now is rest up.”

Somehow, both Tony and Steve manage to keep quiet while I’m examined by a doctor, only asking a few pertinent questions and squeezing my hand when I start to feel upset. I’m mortified that I can’t remember the entire incident where I was wounded and even more embarrassed when I find that it’s difficult to verbalize certain words even though my brain seems to have no trouble identifying them. The doctor assures me that this is normal post-concussion behavior, as is my volatile emotional state, and runs a few tests to check my vision, speech, and motor skills. 

By the time my doctor and nurses leave us alone once more, I am utterly exhausted and once again on the verge of tears, full of self-pity. I just went on the most magical date of my life and yet here I am stranded in a hospital in San Francisco while Bucky is thousands of miles away in New York. All I want is for him to hold me the way I would when he suffered from night terrors and crawled into bed with me. I’m grateful that Steve and Tony have made the time to be here with me but at the same time, there’s an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach and I know I’m desperately missing my constant companion of the last few weeks. 

My cousin looks despairingly at Steve as I begin to dab at my eyes and nose with a tissue, never knowing how to deal with such an onslaught of emotion. His little apology speech may be the first and last time I see him teary-eyed. Steve regards me with compassion in his blue eyes, seeming to understand what’s troubling me even though I haven’t said anything. He picks up his sketchbook from the floor and tears a page out of it, standing up to hand it to me. “This might make you feel a little better. I was working on this while we waited for you to wake up. It’s not quite finished but I think you get the idea.”

I gasp with delight when I see his sketch. I think I recognize the scene from one of our movie nights at the compound. Bucky and I are seated on a couch, my head resting on his shoulder. I appear to be intent on whatever we were watching but Bucky has his eyes closed, a contented little smile on his face. I remember being bold enough to put my head on his shoulder for part of the movie yet I had no idea that he could look so blissful. 

“Steve, this is…” Suddenly I’m crying out of happiness instead of despair. 

“I know. I thought you’d like to see how you two lovebirds looked from an outside perspective,” Steve smiles, taking the drawing out of my hands and propping it up against the pitcher on the bedside table. “Now, why don’t you get some sleep. Things won’t seem so bad when you’re rested.” He brushes his lips ever so gently over my cheek. 

If it weren’t for feeling like I’ve been pummeled by the Hulk, I might even fall asleep with a smile on my face. 

~*~*~*~*~

“Oh, sweetheart,” is all Bucky can say when I’m finally given permission to have a brief video conference with the supersoldier. 

I cringe, turning my face away from my laptop before realizing that there is no angle that can improve the view. The attack left me with two black eyes, a bruised and swollen forehead, and bloodshot eyes. “I told you talking by phone would be better,” I joke, trying to make light of my misfortune. I’ve at least been released from the hospital and am curled up in my bed at our apartment, which feels luxurious after spending time in a hospital bed. 

“Are Stevie and Tony taking good care of you, at least?” he demands. I’m alarmed to see that Bucky looks like he hasn’t slept in about a week. His nightmares must have returned, which is understandable after he was ambushed. 

“Believe it or not, they are excellent nurses. Steve’s even been sketching pictures for me.” 

Bucky smiles fondly at that but then his face becomes sober once again. “God, Doll, there are no words for how sorry I am at putting you through this. I can’t sleep; all I can see is you lying there on the sidewalk and thinking you were dead. I should have known it was tempting fate to take you out. I didn’t deserve you to begin with.” He buries his face in his hands. 

If I could just be there to comfort him, I think, this would all be easier. “Listen to me, James. Aside from the concussion, that was still one of the best nights of my life. I don’t regret it one bit.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, but you need to realize that I can’t see you anymore… romantically, anyway. This cannot happen again.”

“What?” I say stupidly. “Don’t I get a choice in the matter? I knew the risks when I went into hiding with you and I knew the risks when I started dating you. Please don’t do this.” I am ashamed of the pathetic little whine that creeps into my voice but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. 

“You think I want to? I can’t live with myself if I continue to put you in danger. You’re too precious to me, and Tony, and Steve, and the rest of the team for that matter. Hydra could hunt me down for the rest of my life. You deserve better.” Bucky says brokenly as if trying to convince himself of the wisdom of what he’s saying. 

“I just got my head bashed in by Hydra and you’re breaking up with me?” I ask in disbelief, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He heaves a sigh. “I know, it’s the worst time in the world to do this. Please forgive me for that. But it would be reckless and unfair to you to let this go any further, knowing it could never work. Tell me you understand.” His grey-blue eyes beseech me; I have to close my own before I give up all my dignity and beg him not to leave me. 

“I don’t, not at all. But it seems like your mind’s made up so I won’t waste any more of your time.” Blinking back tears, I try to make my voice as cool and controlled as possible but it wavers, betraying my heartbreak. 

“I hope we can still be friends,” Bucky says quietly.

“Of course,” I say, wondering how I could possibly be around him without losing my sanity, knowing what I had so briefly and needed to give up all too soon. 

“‘Bye, Doll,” he says in a choked voice and signs off. 

My anguished wail brings Steve and Tony running in to see what’s wrong but there is nothing they could possibly do to comfort me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I never intended to leave this on a cliffhanger and then disappear. I was sick for most of February and have also been dealing with frequent migraines and some other health problems so it has been difficult to get much writing done. Thank you to those of you who have stuck with me and continue to read this! Much love to my wonderful readers. <3


	7. Sapte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life returns to anything but normal after you return to the Avengers compound.

“You know, I’m not sure haunting the compound like a Victorian ghost is the best way to facilitate your recovery. Not to mention, neither is skipping dinner and eating cereal at midnight.” Tony slides into the chair across from mine in the communal kitchen, looking uncharacteristically serious.

I stare morosely into my bowl, listlessly stirring milk and cereal. I’m touched by how concerned he and Steve have been but at the same time, I’m beginning to feel smothered. “What am I supposed to do? I have no appetite. My brain isn’t functioning normally and I’m not allowed to return to work. I feel like I’ve done enough sleeping, reading, and watching Netflix for a lifetime.”

“You could start by coming out of your apartment at normal times of day and spending time with your friends, who happen to be worried about you.”

The irritating thing is that Tony is correct; my habits since returning home to the compound have been unhealthy and antisocial, to say the least. I’ve been sleeping half the day, emerging at sporadic times to eat, see the doctor, and talk to the team’s counselor, which Tony and Steve had insisted on. I’ve been unable to sleep at night, haunted by what nearly happened to Bucky and how abruptly our relationship had ended just as it began. 

Bucky had come to visit me with Steve not long after I first came home, a brief and awkward encounter in which neither of us could find much to say and Steve appeared to be physically suffering due to the tension. Since then, I’ve managed to largely avoid Bucky; it was not a difficult feat, considering that he was hardly one of the most social members of the team, to begin with. Since the attack, Steve had told me he’d regressed to his pre-Wakanda habits, spending most of his time alone. My desire to comfort him is nearly a physical ache, but Bucky had painfully clear about his wishes. Several times I nearly convinced myself to knock on his door in the night, yet doubt and insecurity held me back. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been so exhausted and frustrated by how long it’s taking to recover. I’m sure I’ll be fine in no time,” I lie. 

Tony rubs his eyes in exasperation. “Cap tells me you still won’t let him try to reason with Barnes.”

“What’s the point? He’s made up his mind. I’m not going to send you guys to beg him to take me back. It’s pathetic.”

Tony sighs, leaning his elbows on the table. “All I know is that Steve says Barnes hadn’t been truly happy in, oh, about eighty years and you were responsible for that. I don’t understand why he would push the source of that happiness away. Listen, it’s no secret that he’s not my favorite person in the world. But even I can see you guys are good for each other.”

“He doesn’t think he deserves to be happy, and he blames himself for what happened to me,” I explain. 

“The two of you are impossible. No wonder you got along so well.”

“I just hope we can be friends again someday,” I say wistfully, standing up to put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher. I turn on the Keurig to make some hot water for tea to bring back to my apartment, settling in for another long night of staring blankly at the TV or a book while my mind goes into overdrive convincing me I’m not good enough for Bucky and I was foolish to think I could have a serious relationship with someone so enigmatic and deeply scarred. 

My cousin snorts. “Please. You two were made to be together and I’m determined to make that happen.”

“Some things are even beyond Iron Man’s capabilities. This may be one of them. Please don’t interfere in my love life again, Tony.” I pull out my stash of tea from the cabinet, choosing a soothing vanilla rooibos. 

“Is that a challenge?” he asks with a cheeky grin. “Relax; I saved New York from a nuke. I think I can manage to make a stubborn old man come to his senses.”

I clench my jaw, thinking how fortunate he is that I don’t have the energy to resist his meddling at the moment. I resolve to give him a piece of my mind once I’m feeling more like myself. For now, I can barely manage to navigate the path of least resistance.

~*~*~*~

Two nights later, Nat and Wanda make it their mission to drag me out of my self-imposed confinement for the team’s movie night. As reluctant as I feel, I find myself enjoying being fussed over and I even agree to change into jeans and a cute top rather than the hoodies and sweatpants I’ve been living in since my injury. 

“You still look a little pale, but it’s nothing some blush can’t fix,” Wanda declares, brushing rouge onto my cheeks while Natasha does my eye makeup.

“Since when do we get all dressed up for movie night?” I protest. “I’m pretty sure both of you have shown up in pajamas.”

“It’s not about movie night; it’s about showing Bucky that you’re not weeping over him in bed,” Nat says briskly. “It also doesn’t hurt for him to see what he’s missing out on.”

“He probably won’t even be there,” I say, silently willing this to be true. 

“Steve has been trying to get him to come out of hiding and socialize,” Wanda replies. 

“Great. Just great,” I sigh.

My friends finally deem me presentable enough to be seen in public and we make our way to the common room, settling onto the couch with Nat and Wanda protectively flanking me on either side. Clint, Tony, and Bruce are already there, setting up the Blu-Ray player and setting out bowls of popcorn and other snacks. Clint immediately comes over to give me a bear hug. “How are you feeling, pal?”

“I’m okay. Still having a lot of headaches but slowly getting better.” Bruce begins quizzing me about my symptoms and while I’m responding, Steve and Bucky enter the room and sit down on the loveseat. After mumbling a hello, I keep my gaze fixed on Clint and Bruce while feeling a flush spread from my neck to my face. _Maybe I should have just stayed in my room after all._

“What are we watching tonight?” Steve asks.

“The Force Awakens,” Tony replies. 

“Again?” Nat groans. “Can’t we watch something new?”

“It was Thor’s turn to choose and he’s mesmerized by that movie for some reason. Maybe he likes seeing other aliens on screen,” Tony shrugs. 

“Maybe emo Kylo Ren reminds him of Loki,” I muse, causing everyone in the group to burst out laughing. I sneak a glance at Bucky and am momentarily heartened to see his shoulders shaking with laughter. _I’ve still got it!_ I think smugly. _God, how I’ve missed making him laugh._

Once the entire team arrives and we start the movie, I find my gaze irresistibly drawn to Bucky’s profile. He seems to be absorbed in the action but I know from the tightness of his jaw that he has something on his mind. He turns his face just a fraction of an inch toward me, his stormy blue eyes meeting mine, and I look down at my lap in embarrassment. Being so close to Bucky, and yet at such a distance is excruciating. I entertain a brief fantasy of climbing into his lap and wrapping my arms around him in hopes that he’d understand the depths of my feelings, but who am I kidding? I would never be so bold. Tony might be able to pull off grand gestures; courage has never been my forte.   
I attempt to focus my attention on the movie but not even Star Wars can pierce through my gloom. Members of the team, most of them early risers, start to drift away as the movie ends. Soon only Steve, Bucky, Tony, and I remain. Tony gives Steve a significant look and the super soldier tells us good night, then disappears into the elevator. I know at that moment that my cousin is up to something and I watch him warily as he stands up and stretches. 

“So, kids,” Tony says casually, “it so happens that I’ve come into possession of two tickets to a show this weekend and I can’t think of anyone who deserves a night on the town more than you guys. What do you think?” He tosses something onto the couch beside me and I’m pretty sure my heart skips a beat when I see it’s tickets for Hamilton. 

“Don’t you want to take Pepper?” I ask feebly, avoiding Bucky’s gaze. There is little I want more than to see this musical, but is it worth spending what’s likely to be an extremely awkward night with Bucky, especially if he’s only taking me because he feels guilty about what happened in San Francisco? 

“We’ve already seen it and I know what a big fan you are. C’mon, I’ll arrange dinner, transportation, the works.” Tony raises his eyebrows. “How can you say no?”

“I can say no because you’re meddling and you know I hate that,” I retort, without conviction. I make eye contact with Bucky, silently pleading with him to intervene. 

Instead, he winks at me and my stupid mutinous heart flutters. “It’s not a bad idea. Let me take you out for a night that doesn’t end in a concussion.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say softly, hating the tiny flicker of hope that rises in me. 

“No,” he agrees, “I don’t. But you deserve to be spoiled after all you’ve done for me. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but will you give me one?” 

My brain is urging me to say no and thus avoid more potential heartbreak; the rest of me is drowning in Bucky’s eyes and powerless to resist. “Yes,” I hear myself say, as if from at a distance. “I would love to.”

“YES!” Tony shouts with a fist pump. “All is right with the world!”

“As for you,” I say, pointing a finger at Tony, “no more interfering in our lives. I know you mean well, but I’m not your little cousin anymore. I can take care of myself.”

“You’ll always be my little cousin, so no promises. You two have a good night.” With a wink, Tony leaves the common room, leaving Bucky and me to eye each other warily, waiting for someone to make a move. 

“Walk you back to your apartment?” he finally asks, almost shyly. 

“Sounds good,” I smile, and he guides me onto the elevator with a gentle hand on my back. When we reach my door, he brushes his lips against my cheek, his cool breath tickling my ear, sending a shiver of delight from my spine down to my toes. 

“Can we start over again this weekend?” he asks earnestly. “Ending things with you was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. I’ve hardly slept since then. Then, seeing you tonight...it brought back a lot of feelings I thought I’d never feel again. 

“I’d like that.” I reach out and give his hand a squeeze. 

“Good night, sugar. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

For the first time in weeks, I find myself unable to stop smiling as I let myself into my apartment, a new lightness in my chest.


	8. Opt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky get a second chance at your first date and Tony forces you into living a fanfiction trope.

I run into Peter Parker on my way out of the compound for my date with Bucky on Saturday. We haven’t seen each other in quite some time but unfortunately, we only have time to exchange pleasantries before I must be on my way. 

As he gives me a hug, Peter says earnestly, “Just so you know, I ship it.” 

“I- I’m sorry?” I’m not unfamiliar with the world of fandoms and fanfiction but his statement catches me off guard. 

“You and Sergeant Barnes. I ship it,” the teenager repeats. “Like, I’m rooting for you guys.”

My face is suddenly uncomfortably warm. How does one respond to that? “Thanks, Peter. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I wave and continue on my way.

Fortunately, Tony and Pepper are also going on a date in the city tonight and are sharing our car, so I don’t have to worry about a potentially awkward ride with just me and Bucky, alone for the first time in weeks. Tony is just the person to break any tension that arises (or make it worse; let’s face it, it could easily go either way). Everyone else is already present when I get into the car and take my seat next to Bucky, who is looking slightly less haggard than he has been since my injury. 

“It’s so good to see you up and around, sweetheart!” Pepper reaches out to squeeze my arm.

“Thanks. Well, Tony made me an offer I couldn’t refuse by dangling Hamilton tickets in front of my face,” I say wryly. Tony just winks at me, smug as can be. “By the way, Mr. Parker just informed me that he ships Bucky and me. I thought that was just you, Tony.”

“You think I ship you just because I helped to write some hot fanfiction about you? I was just following the lead of the other writers who posted stories about you two, most of which are much kinkier than mine.”

This revelation leaves me speechless for a moment. “Yeah, well, at least fans online don’t refer to us as ‘Pepperony,’” I retort. 

Pepper just raises an eyebrow while Tony laughs uproariously. “Pepperony! That’s spectacular!” 

So much for humiliating my cousin. I pout until Bucky takes my hand with his metal one and squeezes gently, apparently sensing my anxiety. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs. 

“Thank you.” I force myself to meet his eyes, feeling more shy than usual. I’m wearing my favorite dress, which is knee-length, lacy, and emerald green. I managed to somewhat cover up the remaining bruising on my face with makeup and Natasha had fixed my hair in an elegant French twist. 

The rest of the ride goes smoothly enough, though Bucky and I mostly make small talk as though we’re truly on our first date. Happy drops the two of us off at one of Tony’s favorite restaurants.

“Have fun, kids!” Tony calls out the window as if Bucky isn’t 50 years older than he is. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

“So that leaves...everything on the table?” I quip, sighing as I regard the upscale restaurant’s exterior. “I hate eating at these places. I know Tony means well, but you pay an obscene amount of money for a plate of tiny food and leave hungry.”

Bucky is smirking, a shifty look on his face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I secretly canceled our reservation here so we can eat wherever we want. We can go anywhere you like.”

I clap my hands in delight, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “You are the greatest! Why don’t we just take a walk and see what looks good?”

He agrees and we stroll down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. I feel like I’ve been released from a cage after spending so much time alone in my apartment. We settle on pizza, ordering gigantic slices and cannoli before sitting down to eat at an outdoor table. This being New York, no one spares a second glance at the couple eating pizza in evening clothes. 

“This is more like it,” I declare, biting into my pizza. Somehow, Bucky has already eaten one slice and is starting on his second. 

“I love how you have no use for all that fancy stuff Tony likes,” he says. 

“This is nice. It almost feels like we’re back in San Francisco again, in our fake relationship days.”

“Don’t knock it; that was the best fake relationship I’ve ever had,” Bucky grins. 

“Things seemed so much easier back then,” I say wistfully. 

“I never should have made it complicated,” he replies. “We have a good thing going here, or we did until I screwed everything up. We just need to take it one day at a time and let things progress naturally.”

“That sounds like Steve advice.”

“Hey, sometimes the punk has good advice.” 

~*~*~*~

I am quivering with excitement by the time the musical begins and I have to resist singing along with all of the songs. I sneak glances at Bucky several times and he appears to be as mesmerized as I am. The show is an emotional journey; between that and the hardships I’ve been dealing with, I find myself openly sobbing when Alexander and Eliza Hamilton’s son Philip is killed in a duel. Bucky shoots me a look of concern and reaches for my hand, gripping it reassuringly. 

I rest my head on Bucky’s shoulder and realize I’m now crying because it feels so good to be in such close proximity to him again. _Ugh, what is wrong with me?_ Tears continue to seep from my eyes for the remainder of the second act; Bucky takes out a handkerchief and gently wipes my face. “I’ve got you, doll,” he whispers in my ear. 

I bite my lip to hold in another sob, this time because he makes me feel so safe and cherished. 

~*~*~*~

“I’m sorry for making such a fool of myself,” I tell Bucky as we stand outside the theater, waiting for Happy to come to pick us up. 

“Hey, you’ve been through a lot lately. I’d be more worried if you didn’t have a good cry.” The night has grown chilly and he places his suit jacket on my shoulders, then wraps his arms around me from behind. “And that’s from an expert at suppressing feelings.”

I can’t argue with that, having seen Bucky’s deepest repressed feelings emerge in the form of nightmares. 

Happy pulls up to the sidewalk and we join Tony and Pepper inside the car, eagerly gushing about how incredible the show was and listening to them recount their evening of dinner and dancing. I’m just settling back and closing my eyes for the ride home when Tony decides to drop a bombshell. 

“It’s a little late to be heading back home so I booked a couple of hotel rooms. Is that okay with you two?”

I can feel myself blushing as I glance at Bucky. We’ve shared a bed before, so why do I suddenly feel so uncomfortable? “Um…” I cast about wildly for an excuse. “I haven’t brought a change of clothes or a toothbrush or anything.”

“I took the liberty of having Pepper pack a bag for you.” Tony folds his arms and leans back in his seat, clearly satisfied with himself. 

“Oh. Well, I’m still recovering and I think I’d sleep better at home.” 

“Better than in a suite at a luxury hotel? Nice try.”

_Damn it._ I shrug apologetically at Bucky, who just gives me a rueful smile. “It’s fine, Stark. We’re all adults here,” he says. 

“Although it would be nice if you would refrain from involving us in every fanfic trope there is,” I complain. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony says innocently. Pepper gives me a sympathetic smile. 

“Oh, come on. ‘Oh no, there’s only one bed so sex has to happen!’ Ridiculous.” Bucky and Pepper chuckle at my concise summary. 

Tony holds up his hands. “Who said anything about sex? You need your sleep, darling cousin. I can’t help it if your mind went somewhere dirty.”

_Ugh._ I resolutely stare straight ahead, grinding my teeth for the remainder of the drive to the hotel. Tony and Pepper merrily bid us good night after we check in, clearly amused at the situation. I realize I’m holding my breath as Bucky and I take the elevator to our suite and try to breathe normally. “Why is this so weird? We just lived together for weeks.” 

The skin around Bucky’s eyes crinkles in the way that I love when he smiles down at me. “Look, this doesn’t have to be a big deal. I’ll sleep on the couch. Sound good?”

“I mean...it’s not like we haven’t slept together before. Okay, that sounded wrong. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Wow. This is not going well. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d really like to cuddle again like we used to...if it’s not weird when you haven’t had a nightmare. I’m not expressing myself very well. Just pretend I didn’t say that.”

Bucky’s entire face lights up and he leans down to kiss me on the forehead. “I’d like that, too. I just don’t ever want to make you feel pushed into doing anything you’re not ready for. Tony can try to set things up all he wants but you’re the one in control here.” 

“You’ve always been a perfect gentleman, something Tony doesn’t quite understand,” I say, making Bucky snort with laughter. 

The suite is beautiful, with one of the largest beds I’ve ever seen. We share a drink from the minibar before preparing for bed. Though I’m normally a night owl, I’m utterly exhausted after the most eventful day since my concussion, too tired to feel as self-conscious as I normally would over Bucky seeing me in my pajamas. At least Pepper had packed a rather cute lace-trimmed set.

I climb into bed with Bucky after brushing my teeth and removing my makeup, leaving about two feet of space between us on the immense bed. Bucky grins at me, jokingly pretending he can’t reach me. “What happened to cuddling, sweetheart? I don’t bite. Unless you want me to, of course.”

I scoot toward him, unable to keep from giggling at his flirting. “Is this better?”

“Much. Can I kiss you?” His voice is husky, those stunning blue eyes focused intently on me. I nod and he tenderly cups my face in his hands, his metal hand startlingly cool against my skin, and brushes his lips against mine. I eagerly part my lips when Bucky deepens the kiss, his tongue seeking out mine. He massages my tongue until I’m completely lost in the feel and smell of him, only dimly aware that he’s moved his hands under my pajama top to stroke my bare back. My skin tingles under his touch and I reluctantly draw back from him to catch my breath, both of us breathing heavily.

Unable to part from him for even a few seconds, I crash my lips back into Bucky’s, tangling my fingers in his long hair. I can feel his arousal against my thigh and without thinking, I hook my leg over his hip, desperately seeking to feel his length against my core. He draws in a sharp breath as we continue kissing, grinding his hips against me. I open my eyes and find him watching me, his pupils wide with lust. And then all at once, he smooths my top back down and disengages his lips from mine, leaving me breathless and aching.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, propping myself up on one elbow.

“I’m sorry, doll. I want nothing more than to make love to you. It’s just...I haven’t been in a relationship in about 70 years, much less been with a woman. Can we take this slow?” His expression is pained. 

“Of course we can.” I mentally chide myself for not considering what it must be like to be dating for the first time in decades after being tortured and controlled for longer than I’ve been alive. “I’m sorry, too. I haven’t been very sensitive to your needs.”

“You’ve been nothing short of wonderful. Nothing about me has ever phased you. You don’t know what that means to me.” Bucky gathers me into his arms and holds me tight. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

I want to stay awake for a while to luxuriate in the feeling of being in Bucky’s embrace, but I feel so warm and contented that I fall asleep almost immediately, listening to his even breathing and reliving the magical evening in my dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you are enjoying this so far! Kudos and comments never fail to make my day. 
> 
> Chapter titles will be numbered in Romanian just because I enjoy Bucky speaking multiple languages.


End file.
